


Him

by marvcltrash



Series: The Nightangel Series [1]
Category: X-Men, X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, M/M, Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 15:18:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7623814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvcltrash/pseuds/marvcltrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was still beautiful. Here, in your arms, he is still beautiful. He is always beautiful. He is the best thing that has ever, will ever happen to you. And you’re okay with that, aren’t you?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The series is all disconnected and really just an organizational thing. No other parts need to be read.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Him

The way he breathes racks your chest with empty air, but you can feel him there, and that is better than oxygen. He is curled in on himself again, as often, the only extremity loose from the ball he has become his tail, wrapped around your wrist. Even in sleep, he is afraid you will leave him. Won’t you?

One of your wings curls lightly around him, almost afraid to touch, even with the softest part of you that you have ever known. You are the devil to his angel, never the other way around, but many fail to see that. They do not see beyond their eyes. Granted, you didn’t either for a while, did you?

Blue lips curl in, baring soft teeth as he is entranced in a nightmare again, and you long to wake him, but he has asked you not to. Sometimes, you wonder if the nightmares are about you. Sometimes, you know they are, whispered words beneath his breath in a language you have no knowledge of, but one word makes sense to you, over and over again. _Engel._

Your idle fingers tap against the sheets. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop, after all, you with the angel face, you could never compare to him. You don’t deserve him. You have told him this, again and again, but he silences you every time, effective though worrying. He says he does not care what you think you deserve. He says you deserve to be happy.

You had never been happy before a blue boy with a tail and pointed ears, pointed teeth, soft nature, walked into your life, and then out of your cage. He ruined your wings, but you are no longer anywhere near angry. Frankly, you are barely a step from reverent in his presence, though you try to keep that softness to yourself. He is not ready for the words you have to say. _**Are you?**_

He doesn’t think of himself as beautiful. Anger burns beneath your skin only now as you think of it, and you wish for sleep, for his sake rather than yours. He does not like you angry. He likes you, of course, you reassure yourself when the wording gets away from you, but he does not like how you feel when you are angry. That’s better. He does not like your dark sadness.

The only time you have ever seen him angry rests in your father’s hands, rests in memories long attempted to have forgotten, in stained feathers riddling the floor only to grow back in full less than a month later. He seethed, baring his teeth, and you still could not see why people called him demon. He was still your guardian, your friend, your keeper.

He was still beautiful. Here, in your arms, he is still beautiful. He is always beautiful. He is the best thing that has ever, will ever happen to you. And you’re okay with that, _aren’t you?_

**Author's Note:**

> Drop a comment and a kudo!


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